Silver
by 9r7g5h
Summary: It was the silver that saved her.


**AN** : Ok, so. It's been a REALLY long time since I've written anything for Helix and longer since I've watched it. So, if things are wrong, sorry. This is based off an ask Helix Anon sent in back in 2015, asking for Sarah as Michael's daughter meeting Julia. I'm SO sorry this took so long, Helix Anon. I hope this is ok, and that you guys enjoy!

 **Disclaimer** : I do not own Helix. Sci-fi does.

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She had always known what her life would be. It had been laid out for her from as early as she could remember, the same life her mother had lived, and her grandmother, and the same one every woman in their line had lived for the last thousand years. There was no escaping it, as much as she and some of the other girls dreamed about doing so. Dreamed about seeing the world outside of the island, dreamed of lives like the ones those who chose to come here told them about- about jobs and schooling and the freedom to do whatever they wanted, so long as they had the money to do so. Dreams about being their own people, their own women- of controlling their own lives.

But they were just that- dreams. For no matter how much Sarah longed for that other life, she knew it was an impossibility. She knew, just as well as everyone else did, what would happen if she tried to live that life- the rooms under the halls were the best know secret on the island. Everyone knew what went on down there, the kind of lives those poor souls lived after they had tried to fight for their own. Everyone knew, but no one said, no one did anything to stop it- they just accepted their lives as best as they could. And Sarah, as much as she hated it, had accepted her own.

Once she was old enough, she would become one of Michael's brides, bear him as many children- hopefully girls- as she could, and raise the next generation to follow the same path she herself had just finished walking.

It was her illness that ended up saving her from that fate.

None of them were sure why she fell sick- she had always been healthy as a child, happy and healthy and outgoing, always ready to do her chores after school so she could play. But when she was sixteen, just two years shy of adulthood, of being the perfect age for marriage, she fell ill. A constant chill, constant pain, barely able to move, to talk, to care for herself. If not for her mother and her sisters, all of them cycling out, tending to her every need and desire and want during those hours when they were sure she wouldn't survive, she wouldn't have. She would have passed, would have left behind a world unknown, except for her little island. Would have never seen what could have been.

But she lived. It took months of tests, months of Michael and the Mothers playing with their different medicines, their supposed cures, trying to find the perfect one that would heal her body, mind, and soul. It took months, the rest of her sixteenth year and almost half of her seventeenth, but finally they found something that worked. It left her weak- weaker than she had ever been, even as a newborn babe. Barely able to lift her head, completely unable to stand, without a doubt never able to bear a child, Sarah was almost sure she would still die.

On the island, everyone had a purpose. Hers had been to continue on Michael's line, just like it was every other woman's purpose there. And if she couldn't do that, what good was she? She wasn't, just a drain on their world. And, as all of them had been taught, when there was a weakness amongst the trees, it had to be pruned.

But she wasn't. For some reason she would never be able to understand, she was allowed to live. In the shadows, in the darkness, yes, but still allowed to live. Live and heal and learn.

It took a long time for her to walk again, the months of bedrest wasting away her legs- it took her mother and her sisters support to even stand, took their steadying hands on her to help her take those first few steps, took their strength to keep her from falling. The Mothers thought it couldn't be done- it was a genetic disease that had struck her down to begin with, and even though they had found the cure, had found the right mixture that she had to drink each day to keep it at bay, they still thought her a hopeless cause.

She proved them wrong, and earned her way into the library. For even though her body was useless to Michael, he still saw worth in her mind.

She had never seen so many books before. Of course, she had seen a few, here or there throughout her childhood- Michael refused to allow any of his children to be illiterate. But the sheer number that lined the walls, that sat in stacks upon tables, that covered every single flat surface off of the floor- it was mind boggling, it was awe-inspiring, and it was a little bit terrifying.

"I want you to read them," Michael had said that first day, opening the window so sunlight and fresh air could filter in. He had motioned to a comfortable looking chair, nodding, almost pleased, when she sat. "You have a brilliant mind, Sarah," he had continued. "I've always known you were one of my smarter daughters. So I want you read these and learn. I'll have a use for your knowledge later. But for now, my daughter, just read."

He had kissed her on the forehead- more of a father in that moment then he had ever been- and left.

So she read, read and learned about the world outside of their little island. The world she was determined to one day see.

She found the scientific texts the most fascinating- biology and chemistry and medicine and genetics; everything about plants and animals and the human being she could get her hands on, she devoured, often finding herself still in the library long after the sun had set, only roused from her texts when one of her sisters appeared at the door to get her for bed. And sometimes not even then- there had been many nights she had looked up from a book, eyes dry and red rimmed and ready for sleep, only to find it dawn, breakfast just a short hour away.

She spent years reading- how long exactly she wasn't, and couldn't be, quite sure. She was well into her twenties when she finally stopped to think about how much of her life had been spent in that room, reading every single word on every single page, feeling like there was always more to learn even as the number of books she had read began to catch up to the number she still had to read. Even though she had gotten strong again- strong enough to walk on her own, to work outside if she was given a job there, to take care of herself- she still went, every day, to that room. She went to that room and read, learned and refined the knowledge she had learned, bettering herself and her mind with each new fact she stored away for later.

And oh, she was glad she did, because when people started getting sick, she was the one Michael came to.

"Get them healthy again," he had said, his words more of a demand then a request, despite the impossibility of it all. She knew books and words- even though she had a vast amount of medical knowledge, she had never applied it before, had never worked it beyond her imagined stunts as a doctor in the real world. The CDC had arrived- why he didn't just let them take care of it, Sarah would never know. But for some reason she was given the task, and she had to do it.

And she failed. She failed, the Mother tree burned, Michael died, and she watched as her home was destroyed by the very people who had arrived to save it. She had thought the man, Alan, would be able to fulfill the promise he had made, that everything would be ok, but he had lied. Lied and left their little world to burn.

She survived. Stole some weapons, weapons she had read about but never used, teaching herself from theory the best way to defend herself. Built herself a little home out in the woods, using the techniques she had read about in the books. Used her knowledge to identify the food that was safe, the water she could drink, the animals that wouldn't kill her if she got too close. Using the knowledge Michael had given her, had forced her to gain, she survived.

Survived long enough to meet _her_.

There weren't many people left on the island after Alan left, not many uninfected, that is. There was a boy- he had been immune, had managed to overcome the disease that so many others had succumbed to. She had tried to talk to him a couple of time over the years, had tried to catch up to him when he ran- they were stronger and safer in numbers. While she could take out one of the diseased easily on her own, using their anger and their rage-addled minds to quickly get the upper hand, having another set of eyes and ears and hands would be helpful. But he had always run. And the old man who had built a house on the other side of the island was someone she was sure she should avoid. She had seen him, a couple of times, moving his large, life-sized dolls around. Sometimes he sat the two of them on the porch, sometimes he took one of them out into the woods to do who knew what, and sometimes it was just him, muttering to himself. But the dolls were terrifying to look at, even from a distance, and so she kept her own.

She knew what they were, what they really were, but for her own sanity, they were just dolls, and he was just an insane old man she wanted nothing to do with.

As far as she knew, everyone else, what few there were, were infected. Infected, violent, unable to exist without destroying something at least once a day- she was honestly surprised that they had lived so long, had continue to exist after that first outbreak. Death seemed to be their main go to, and for them to actually survive? Well, she had been impressed, if also more than quite a bit terrified. She had hoped they would kill themselves off, that soon it would just be her and the boy and the old man. But they hadn't, and she hadn't slept well since her home had first burned.

Until she met her. Until she met Julia. Until she looked in her eyes, saw the shimmering silver that stared back, and, for the first time she could remember in who knew how long, she left safe.

Safe, because even as Julia told her about the world off the island, about the disease that was running rampant throughout humanity, the same infection she had spent so long dealing with here, Julia had a plan. A plan and a purpose and a goal- unlike Alan, it actually seemed like she knew what she was doing.

She helped, as much as she could. Which wasn't much, not really- even though she had lived her entire life on the island, she didn't know much about it. Didn't know where it was (Julia told her), didn't know why it was special (again, Julia let her know), didn't know how much of a part it had played in the ruin of humanity, and how big of one it would play in its saving (Julia had spent almost an entire night sitting before the fire, patiently answering her every question, leaving nothing out but that which she couldn't answer, either due to ignorance or the answer she had just being conjecture). But she led Julia to the abby, led her to the roots of the Mother tree, helped her gather the fungus she needed to create the world-saving cure that would halt humanity's birth rates in its tracks- she helped as much as she could.

And in exchange Julia took her with her. Took her with her back to the real world, off of the island, and turned her into one of them.

It wasn't a casual offer made lightly. It was only after the cure for the immortals had been made, only after the disease for the rest of humanity had been cut off, only after the reports of mass infertility started to roll in that Julia even brought up the mention of what she was. Only then that she gave her own history- the outbreak in Antarctica, her relationship with that Alan man, who she was and how she had come to be. She talked about the process- about the brief pain that brought this sense of calm, of slowness, as if the world had been a racing clock someone had just reset to run properly.

She had to explain a lot- while Michael had tried to keep his library updated, so much had changed in the last decade (a decade. A whole ten years since Alan had destroyed her home). But Julia had been happy to, had been glad to show her how the world had been, how it was, how the world would be when the immortals had finished stepping in. She enjoyed explaining and did it often, much to Sarah's relief. And with the explanation she understood. She understood, though she didn't mention that she did. She just listened and learned, waiting for it all to come together.

And it did, when the cure for the immortals was found, when the cure for humanity had been delivered to the people, when the mass reports of infertility came rolling into their headquarters. Because that was when Julia brought up the idea of turning her to the immortal elders, when Julia was given permission to make her one of them as thanks for helping them in their time of need, and when Julia brought up the idea to her.

"I know you might not have the best view of immortals," Julia had, softly, almost unable to meet her eyes. "I read the reports of what Michael was doing on that island, and just…" She had shuddered, disgust flashing across her features for a moment before settling again into the gentle, almost pleading look. "So if you don't want to, I understand. But we could make you an immortal, and you could be one of us."

Sarah didn't answer. She didn't need to, not when her hand, reaching out and intertwining their fingers together, her smile wide and excited, did all of the speaking for her.

It wasn't as painful as Julia made it seem. Perhaps because hers was done in a lab, with doctors and technicians and Julia right there despite the recently drawn spinal fluid, always talking even as her hands worked, the lead for this transformation. Perhaps because hers was scheduled instead of a random event, a random turning that Julia hadn't had control over.

Perhaps because, when it was over and she was in recovery, Julia was there as well, smiling and holding her hand in one, a mirror in the other, holding it up so she could see her own set of silver.

A set of silver that bound her to life far better than her own brown ever could have, even as they freed her from the life she had been forced to live. From breeding stock to survivor to immortal- Sarah stared at the silver that stared back, and smiled.

And smiled even wider as she turned to Julia and saw a similar set staring, smiling back, promising forever.


End file.
